


tours en l'air

by tristemami



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Ballet, Ballet AU, Ballet Dancer, I swear to god this is a slowburn Kylux fanfic trust me on this one, M/M, a lot of cheap whiskey and fist fights, angst???, slowburn, unresolved childhood trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-06-08 23:09:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15254109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tristemami/pseuds/tristemami
Summary: The first time Ben Solo stood on his own, he was trying to dance, to twirl like his mother did. Little did he know how much trouble that career would mean for him later on his life.Kylo Ren/Armitage Hux.





	1. un

**Author's Note:**

> please let me know if you spot any typo or have any correction (english is not my first language)!! also if you want to comment anything just go ahead, i love reading your thoughts!

Breathe in. Breathe out.  
Breathe in. Breathe out.

It's not a big deal. Why would it be? If anything, he made things easier for both of them.

In the end, relationships were nothing but a big, obnoxious waste of time. He had more important worries at the moment.

He was going to break that up any day, anyways.

The only problem was that he could not stop thinking about Poe fucking Dameron and the way he looked at him when he said how tired he was of this "thing" they had going. The sadness. The weariness. The dissappointment.

-I can't keep this up anymore, Kylo. You want me to say yes to everything that comes out of your mouth and I'm not like that, you know that well enough. - a hand run through his hair and he looked down for a second, only to look back up right after and lock eyes with him again. He did look tired, after all - Don't call me anymore. I love you, and I can't avoid you, but I can't be close to you anymore. You're- you're draining me.

Well, whatever. Not a big deal. Poe was a mere technician for the theatre, but Kylo?

He was the star.

His face was always up and front in the posters. His character in the ballet was always the main one. The hero. The focus. So what if a technician dumped him? He could do better. He WOULD do better. It was a matter of days before getting back on his feet, to being the most important member of the company, the child who stood en pointe before many others knew how to walk.

*

The first time Ben Solo stood on his own, he was trying to dance. To twirl like his mother did, reaching for the ceiling with those chubby fingertips. Leia didn't hesitate: she took his hand and started teaching him, correcting his posture, taking him to local rehearsals and around her company members, and leaving him homework when she was asked to perform out of the country, which wasn't unusual at all. His father was never really outspoken of his opinion concerning the boy's hobby, but, as everyone, he could clearly see the same passion Leia had for the craft in the little one's eyes. Han helped little Ben when Leia was not around, holding his hand, making their favorite meals without her knowledge, taking him to the theater where he watched his son grow sylphic and gracious in the stage, clumsy and nervous out of it. The love in his eyes was undeniable, but no one could convince little Ben Solo of this when Han left right after his 10th birthday, leaving a hole inside him that was filled to the brim with his sadness but, at the same time, felt emptier than the left side of his parents bed.

Ben started traveling with his mom, learning from all kinds of dancers from every corner of the world, and, soon, he was up in the stage with her, under the shining lights, in front of hundreds of people that were paying to see him, to watch him dance like his father once did. But it wasn't enough. It would never be enough. And this frustration, this rage, fueled his passion for ballet like nothing else could. He was never the most polished dancer, but the stage was his to take, and the raw emotion he imprinted into every motion soon took him to the front and center. Not everything was easy though, as his mother still cast her shadow over him whenever they shared the spotlight; soon, Ben decided to start a career of his own, using a name of his own. A fresh start, away from his father's ghost, and his mother's empire.

When he reached for the door of the Imperial Ballet as Kylo Ren, they welcomed him with open arms at an age most people weren't even done with college, and the first months were pure bliss for him. No one watching over him, no one to call him "the son of Leia", no one to treat him like a child anymore. 22 years and the frame of an athlete and they still could not stop calling him "Little Ben". Broad shoulders, wild, long, dark hair; dark, deep eyes. The constelation of moles across his body lured in more than a few lovers in those years. No one stayed, though, but he didn't mind. That's just how things were back then. A quick fuck backstage every now and then, someone would come over to his house after a presentation and be gone by morning, maybe he'd go get a drink by himself and come home with some company. Whatever it was, it was fleeting and gave him time to keep pursuing his career the pace he liked it: obsessively steady. And he liked it, the easiness, the lack of commitment. He didn't have to stir the deep, bottomless pit where he stored his more vulnerable emotions, and that was a-ok with him, even if it meant he would stay frozen in time, never to reach emotional maturity. He always thought his career could give him more fulfillment than any person, but when he met Poe Dameron, well... he realized just how wrong he was.

It was always "this thing", never reached the couple status. What started as a one night stand after a particularly amazing presentation of The Nutcracker dragged on for two years. Two blissful, amazing years for Kylo that gave him back some of the sense of wonder he had when he joined the company so many years before, sure, but two long, increasingly tiring years for Poe, who never felt welcome into the dancer's life. He was the one always changing his schedule for him, he was the one always giving in, he was the one that always got the short end of the stick. He had lost count of the times he tried to get him to open up and failed; and he also knew how unhealthy that was, but Kylo looked so happy to have someone care for him after God knows how long... the only thing he could do was keep on trying. His happy-go-lucky personality started to wear off, however, and he knew he could no longer pretend that a one sided relationship with a man child with trust issues was something worth fighting for.

With that in mind, he waited for Kylo to arrive to the light room of the theather that night, which he did one hour later than expected, and gathered enough courage to tell him they were done with whatever game he was playing. Two years of surrender were more than enough.

Snapped back to reality by the sharp jingle of the train, Kylo glanced to the clock on the station, realizing in the process that he missed his stop and that this was the last train of the night.

Fucking brilliant. Just the improvement the night needed, really.

He got up in a rush, afraid of missing the already open doors, and looked around the station. It was deserted, the only person standing on the plataform himself. Nothing that weird, really, given how it was midnight on a weekday. The streets would be quiet, too, just the way he liked them, but that wasn't the reason that got him to look again at the clock. The streets were not the place he wanted to be, but he knew exactly where they would take him.

A brisk, short walk through the cold led him to his house after a few stops to gather the essentials for a night of... of what? He hadn't really thought about his feelings, and even if he did, this felt both old and new. The bottomless pit of despair that his father opened had a reinauguration that night and he was more than ready to drop dead inside, for a few hours at least. Could this be heartbreak? Had he been too busy to realize that what he felt for the past two years was genuine love that just slipped through his fingers because he was too scared to grip it close to his heart? Sitting on the floor of his open concept appartment, looking through the obnoxiously large windows, lights off, it felt surreal. Nothing made sense, just the ache inside. Head rested against the wall, eyes closed, he tightened the grip around the bottle he just bought, trying hard to remember what the fuck was inside but failing, the only image behind his lids being Poe's sad stare to him as he left the room and closed the door behind him, closing another one inside.

After the first drink the others came easier and easier, and, soon, he found himself reaching for all the half empty bottles sitting on his fridge; he would later recall he felt surprised at the amount of them found.

Everything became a blur of movement after that, and things escalated quickly; he knew because when he found himself knocking on Poe's door the night was still as dark as it was when he got out of the train. He had no idea how he managed to cross the city that fast or how he got the right door as they almost never met there before (why was that, though? Why didn't he come more frequently to Poe's house? He couldn't remember), but there he was. Pounding on a door so thin it looked about to break when Poe finally opened.

-What th- Kylo? Kylo what the f-

-I don't need you, you- you know? I don't need you! I c-can do better! - Kylo's inability to stay still, the bottle on his hand and even maybe the tears across his face took a little bit of force from his statement.

-Kylo... please, go home. Please. Don't do this.

-Fuck you! You don't tell me what to do, Poe Dameron!

-You made that perfectly clear already, trust me.

Before the delivery of his clever answer, Ren tripped on his own feet and lost his balance, falling face front with the empty bottle still on his hand.

A blur of movement again. Lights. Noise, a lot of noise. Who the fuck is making that noise? Poe's voice in the distance, frantic, erratic, broken. Then, darkness. Silence, finally.

*

Not that he wanted to, but he finally opened his eyes next morning. First thing after trying to get up and failing was realizing he was phisically restrained. Second, the whiteness of his surroundings. Third, the tension on the skin of his face. He stopped struggling for a moment and laid still again, connecting the scarce events he remembered from last night, but still unable to find an aswer as to why he was in a hospital bed.

-You awake?

Turned his face to the corner, and there he was. Poe. Still in his pajamas, eyebags deep purple.

-Fucking asshole.

-What is going on?

-You sliced your fucking face open at my fucking doorstep, almost had to pick you eye, lucky me it didn't fall out. You fucking moron. I don't need this, you hear me? I DON'T NEED THIS - Walking while talking, Poe was now standing over him, loosening Kylo's restrains and talking with something that wasn't quite anger staining every word - You can't just stop and think about other people, can you? You're too busy being the fucking star of your own little bubble. Fuck you. Called work for you, you're fired. You're welcome.

A heavy silence crept into the room as Poe untied the last bound, and he didn't break it before storming out, leaving Kylo confused, alone, and, for once, quiet.

*

The wound wasn't that bad, but Kylo was useless when it came to healthcare. Lucky him, his cousin Rey agreed to let him stay at her house for a few days, until the wound closed at least, and even if he knew that uncomfortable questions would be asked, if they came from her they would be little more bearable.

-Why would you even do that, Ben?

-I just... I don't know, okay? I was confused, I was sad, I was... It felt like dad had left me again.

-Work on your daddy issues.

Rey, technically, wasn't his cousin. She was the adopted daughter of Ben Kenobi, a good family friend and the man he owed his name to, and she always made a point of how much of a victim Kylo played to be when he talked about his father, even if she acknowledged how deeply scarred his departure left Ben. He was about to answer, trying to stay civil and not letting his anger get the best of him, but got cut when his phone announced he had a new message. He looked down at it, brow furrowed, as he hadn't gotten many texts the last few days despite his condition (turns out when you get fired for being an aggresive drunk ass not a lot of coworkers remain friends anymore), and realized the number wasn't saved to his contacts. The message itself didn't give a lot of details, either:

"starkiller theatre, 6pm, monday. dont be late. -hux"

The name rung a bell, but he couldn't quite place his finger on where he had heard it. Whoever it was, they were kind enough to give him almost a week to think about the cryptic message, but the second he was done reading it he knew he was coming. He was physically aching to get back on a stage, and since he had gotten himself fired he hadn't dare going down to the theatre again to pick up his stuff, much less to dance again. For the first time in years, the path was unclear. Unable to hide his smirk, he laughed for a second.

-Why the fuck not, huh?


	2. deux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -Formally introducing myself, Kylo Ren. And you are...?  
> -None of your business.  
> The voice came from the shadows at the right of the stage. Finally, he had found his redheaded beauty. The mystery of Hux starts to unravel.

"Young ballet promise drops the dancing and ventures into business?"  
"Old Emperor Theater under reconstruction: will open its gates under the name "Starkiller."  
"Ginger beauty Armitage Hux and company in the opening night of the Starkiller: best and worst dressed."

So, he was right. He had heard the name Hux before, huh?  
A quick browser searches for the guy and he now remembered as clear as day telling Rey about the "cute piece of ass" (his words) that was settling his company a block away from his own's theatre. That happened, according to the news, a little over a year ago, and somehow, he couldn't recall seeing that bright, fiery hair once in their shared area. Seeing as almost all the dancers and people involved in the business had a clear preference for one of the bars nearby it felt weird, but it was true: he would remember such a sight. They hadn't met, not even once, and that made the text the redhead sent him the day before even the more cryptic.

How was he supposed to wait a full week before knowing what he wanted?

Sipping some beer and pretending he didn't hear Rey telling him what a reckless moron he was right when he closed the door to her house, he found himself right outside the ginger's theatre. Above his head, the sign in vintage red neon on an otherwise black building read "STARKILLER", while the revolving door under it sported a little sign that told the reader to look in the lobby for information on the schedule for the trimester and upcoming shows.  
Inside of the theater, the atmosphere was really different from the last time he visited (admittedly, that was a long time ago, so it wasn't that surprising). In fact, it was different to any theater Kylo had visited. The floor was smooth, black marble; every surface was polished and shiny without feeling obnoxious; the chandelier above, upon closer inspection, turned out to be an artistic tangle of vintage light bulbs, some of them white, a few of them red. That was the color palette for the place, he noticed: a lot of black, red highlights, and a couple of white touches. Couldn't say he didn't like it, the guy obviously had an amazing taste.  
The black velvet carpet led him to the door that people normally used to get to their seats, empty that night, contrasted with the stage that had several dancers scattered while stretching. Filled with the confidence that a life of privilege in the creative spaces gave him, Kylo walked down to the front of the seats, picked one and sat down, his eyes eagerly scanning the stage for the redhead.  
-Excuse me, can I help you?  
His eyes quickly shifted to the person who had spoken, a tall, blond woman who looked like she could lift him; not a usual build in a ballerina, but really beautiful in her, regardless.  
-Oh, don't mind me, I'm just waiting.  
The woman, clearly exasperated, walked to the spot right in front of Kylo, and crossed her arms over her chest, legs slightly open; all in all, it was kind of threatening.  
-I do mind you, we can't finish our rehearsal with some random creep in the front row. It's unsettling, and also, disrespectful. I thought you - she looked him up and down with sort of a mocking air -, the oh so famous Kylo Ren, would know that.  
-It's not fair that you know who I am but I don't know who you are - he answered, a grin prowling in the corners of his mouth as he stood up and walked to her, offering his hand with a flirty stare -. Formally introducing myself, Kylo Ren. And you are...?  
-None of your business.

The voice came from the shadows at the right of the stage. Finally, he had found his redheaded beauty. The blond one had nothing on him, and pictures didn't do him justice, either. His hair was messy (an unusual sight for Kylo, who had only seen him in pictures either with haute couture suits or his ballet clothes) and his skin looked bright from the sweat, his white t-shirt almost transparent in some spots thanks to that too. Not to be dramatic about it, but it was kind of breathtaking. He walked to the blond woman's side and put a hand on her arm as if saying "I'll take it from here".

-To what do I owe the pleasure of Kylo Ren visiting our humble home?  
-You, uh... Didn't you send me a message, like, yesterday?  
-I thought you suddenly had something to do here since in my message I asked you to come next Monday. Phasma, am I, perhaps, wrong, and is today Monday?  
-No, Hux. Today is, in fact, Wednesday.  
Phasma had a shit-eating grin on her face, but Hux looked absolutely, deadly serious, his icy blue stare only making Kylo more and more nervous as time went by.  
-Then, let me repeat myself. To what do we owe the pleasure? As it is obvious that either you confused the date of our meeting or you can't, for the love of God, follow a simple instruction. And I'd hate to believe the latter.

Kylo swallowed. Hard. Turns out Rey was right about how much a reckless moron he was being, but it was a little too late for that now, wasn't it?

-I hadn't got a chance to check the theatre after the reopening, thought it would be the perfect occasion - he tried to look casual as he bullshitted his way out of the awkward situation his own misplaced confidence had put him into and thought he was doing a good job, until Hux, turning from him and leaving the stage, said:

-When you fix your pathetic attempt at crafting an excuse, call me. You know my number. Or maybe you could develop your reading skills and comprehension and wait until I have some free time next Monday. Whatever you choose, I'll be waiting.

*

As it was usual on him every time his ego took a beating, Kylo found himself sipping on a glass of cheap whiskey at Cassian's old place, the Rogue.

His favorite bar was a common taste between the creative type that worked in the surrounding blocks, dancers, actors, performers, etc. Of course, they weren't the only ones going there, but they were a big majority. The place was dimly lit with warm colored lights, and the layout was really simple: a long space with a bar running on one wall, and some chairs and tables on the other one, with some room for dancing and standing in between.  
The bartender was a friend of his, first one he made when he settled down in the city, and besides being a really good friend, he was also an immigrant who shared some of Kylo's struggles, which made them bond over the years.  
-So... what did you say happened?  
-He just dismissed me like I'm... no one. He literally insulted me in front of all his coworkers! - he took another sip of whiskey, his speech kind of slurry already -. How dare he?! I'm the greatest dancer this city- this COUNTRY has seen!  
-You DO have to admit you're kind of fucked now and in no place to demand shit, right? I mean, look at your face. Or your job, for that matter.  
-Shut the fuck up Cassian. If I wanted to hear someone tell me how much of a fuck up I am I would be at Rey's.  
-I'm just saying, man. Don't take it out on me.

Kylo put his head in his hands, run his fingers through his hair, raised his sight to meet Cassian's again.

-I'm sorry. I can't figure out what the ginger fucker wants and it's haunting me.  
-Well, maybe wait a couple of days? Not like it's gonna kill you.

*

Back at Rey's, of course, she laughed at him.  
-I don't want to say it but I'm gonna do it. Told. You. So.  
-Is today the "shit on Kylo"day? because it sure as shit feels like it.  
-You brought it upon yourself, stop bitching - Rose's voice came from the kitchen, where she was making dinner -. Rey told you, but you rather let your pride take over your actions than listen to people that care about you - She came out of the kitchen with a big plate and settled it in the table, looking at Kylo immediately after -. Stop and think for once in your life and leave the man alone until Monday. He doesn't have to deal with you until then.

They each grabbed a plate and sat wherever it felt comfortable, with Rey and Rose obviously sitting together on the big sofa, cuddling, and making eating more difficult than necessary. Kylo sat across them, throwing stares like knives at their couple-like behavior.  
-I'm trying to eat over here, you know. Y'all gonna make me throw up.  
-Will you ever stop whining about literally everything? Do something useful with your pie hole and eat before you die of starvation. You went on your little shit trip before lunch.  
Kylo smiled, and, for once, listened to his cousin. The slander and insults were common for them, and he knew that she was actually very worried about him. She had all the rights to be, being truthful. As much as he pretended to be okay behind layers and layers of sarcasm and fake confidence, she knew. The scar across his face wasn't healed yet, and the flesh around it itched at random times of the day, reminding him of his mistakes and how much of an asshole he had been to the only person that had been patient enough to deal with his shit for more than two years.

Everybody thought he didn't know, he was oblivious to his own behavior, but he wasn't. Kylo knew perfectly well how difficult he could be, but... after a lifetime of hiding behind the same walls, how does one tear them down? How do you change something that has been with you so long it's become a part of your personality? Was there a different way for him to cope with the bottled loss feelings he'd held for, what, 15, 17 years? If a crowd cheering for him and reminding him of his talents couldn't help... then what could?

-Can't sleep?

Rey sat by his side on the porch and grabbed a cigarette for herself. She wasn't a frequent smoker, but they liked to share one from time to time. They stayed silent for a moment, the smoke filling the air instead of the words they both knew would have to come.

-Hey, you know I love you, but...  
-I know. I'm not gonna stay here forever. I just need a few days to... readjust. Shit hit the fan and it all happened so fast I don't even know to what should I react first - he turned to face her, tearing his sight from the night sky -. Hey. Where's Rose?  
-Sleeping like a baby. You know I'm not going to kick you out, but you need to figure out what you're going to do as quick as possible. I've seen you idle. Not a good look.  
-Thanks. You got whiskey?  
-You bet your ass I do.

*

The next days, Kylo thought about his life like he had never done before. This happened mostly after chugging some whiskey on his apartment and dancing to Chopin's nocturnes, his favorite composer to let himself go while listening to. Sweaty, tipsy, and alone, he'd lie down in his living room and outline his immediate future, and every day it would branch off in different directions, depending on what possibilities he could think about why did Hux want to see him. Did he want a date? To mock him? To... use him? How? Every day the questions changed, and so did the answers. He became obsessed with the subject and started searching for the guy on his phone every few minutes, trying to figure out his personality based on the few pictures and articles he could find. Only one of them had sort of an interview with Armitage Hux himself, and it was just a few lines, a quote, really:  
"The Starkiller is my new home. I built this thing of beauty from the ashes of [the Imperial theatre], with my own hands, and my soul is in every detail. I've worked as hard as I have been able to for years, and it's finally all worth it."  
Dude apparently had busted his ass for more than 7 years to get his vision for the Starkiller done, with the help of no one but his company. And now it was a growing name in the creative circles of the city for its risky choices and new perspectives on the classics, introducing themes as gender issues, homosexual relationships, and power imbalances among a long list of others. This was, as Hux learned, a double-edged sword, but he expected as much. Kylo devoured all the content he could find, but it wasn't enough. He was filled with more questions than answers and they all lingered on his mind for the whole week.

Until Monday rolled around.

He couldn't tell but his fidgeting reached ungodly levels, and so did his heartbeat, rising and rising the closer the hour of their meeting. He arrived way too early, his eyes subconsciously looking for the ginger man around every corner of the way, knowing he wouldn't find him outside of the theatre, but unable to stop himself. All the questions he had? Poof. Gone. The second he got into the theater and saw Hux waiting for him at the lobby, it all went away. His mind, suddenly, became a whiteboard recently erased.

-Shall we go to my office? I'll fix you a drink. I heard you like your whiskey on the rocks.

 

-See, the way I see it, you've got two options, Mr. Ren.  
-Just Kylo.  
-One, you let your career die. No company in their right mind would hire you after the... scandal, you got yourself involved with.  
-You can say it, I fucked up.  
-You did. But, here's my offer. Here's the second option - he leaned on his hands, his palms firmly put on the surface of the table between them, and looked at Kylo, stared directly to his soul -. Join us. I will be your employer and as long as you don't break any contractual rules, I will provide you with your salary.

Kylo didn't know how to react to that exactly. In one hand, he was right about his first option. No one would hire him in a long while, at least not in this city, and he didn't feel like moving at the time. But the second option...? The Starkiller was a baby, it had only been around for a little over a year, and he was a world-famous dancer, just like his mother. He had shared the stage with companies older than his bloodline, but he was absolutely sure none of them would take him in at this moment. He wasn't stupid. He knew his prime was slipping through his fingers, and he could not afford to lose any chance that crossed his path at the moment, but this...? On top of all that, he was still embarrassed about their first encounter. Hux made him look like a spoiled child, and his ego still weakened at that memory.

-So? I'm waiting, Ren.

Kylo snapped back to reality and looked at Hux, brow furrowed. Jesus, one could really get lost in that man's eyes. No. Focus.

-I'm... I'm not entirely sure I'm a good fit for your crew. But I guess I've got no other option, do I?  
-I don't think so.  
-So it's settled.  
-So it is. Talk to Phasma. She'll give you your character and schedule your rehearsals. We will talk about contractual procedures later - he turned, giving his back to Kylo, and started working on a costume on a mannequin, sewing something close to the hemline of a jacket -. You can leave now.  
-Uh... don't I need, like, a costume...? Or something...?  
-I doubt background dancer nº3 needs anything special. As I mentioned before, Ren: ask Phasma.

Kylo couldn't hide the surprise and mild horror displaying on his face. Background? Him?!

-Before you speak - Hux said, looking at him over his shoulder -. I offered you a job. I'm taking you in. But that doesn't mean you get a star treatment. Do you want the central spot in the theatre? - He looked back at the mannequin - Work for it. Most of us do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhhh ill upload the illustration again when its colored!!!  
> i hope you liked it and, as always, any recomendation, typo or whatever, just leave it in the comments!! or drop me a line on twitter at @yookanda <3


	3. trois

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some nights, Hux would sit at his desk and allow himself to have a drink and call it a night, leaving the paperwork for the next day. Some nights, he dreamt with a different life, one where he had friends that would visit him, that would have shared memories with him, that would help him whenever he needed it. Some nights, he dreamt with a tender, warm body laying in bed, waiting for him, easing him into sleep. Some nights, he dreamt with a happy, easy life.

-You don't get it?  
-Honestly? No. Are we not enough for you, or what? Is the spoiled little shit any better than I or Mitaka or anyone here?  
Hux chuckled, in a way only Phasma had seen him do.  
-You know perfectly well all of you are the best crew I've ever worked with. I'm not, in any way, saying he's more skilled or better, as you said, than any of you. But now he owes me, Phasma - his piercing stare fixed on her, not in the threatening way everyone else felt it, but in a way that read as confident and somewhat conspiratory -. I'm sure you, particularly you, are aware of how binding a debt like this can be.  
-Is that your way of saying I still owe you something?  
-Not at all, and you don't. Stop bringing that up. You've already paid more than I could have given to you in the first place.

Phasma sighed. It was true, though. Her debt was paid long ago. 

She never though she'd live to see the day when Armitage Hux would let himself relax in front of other people, but there she was. His best friend. Or the next closest thing to that that he would allow anyone to be.

And to think of how it all started, between them both...

*

When Phasma heard the Emperor theater was about to have a reboot of some sort, she knew that was her chance. The former choreographer and boss of the Emperor had rejected her, saying she wasn't "feminine enough" for any female role in that company. Snoke, that old son of a bitch. 

Then, he died. Tragic, really. Painful death. Fell from a place so high he literally snapped in half. Guts all over the place, really gory. Phasma was happy enough to celebrate by treating herself to the best restaurant her waitress salary could pay when she found out, her first night out in ages. "Karma's a bitch", she thought.

She walked into Hux's office both scared and proud, ready to pick a fight the moment someone questioned her, but it proved unnecessary. She was absolutely desperate for a job and knew a newcomer would be her best chance, and Hux saw in that desperation a chance to gain a loyal colleague, so he gave her her first job as a dancer, and her best to date. Her debt to him was paid over months helping him with the heavy work of the theater restoration much before she could actually dance on a stage (at that point in time, the stage didn't even have an actual floor), training the new dancers and anything in between that needed work, and Hux, that worked just as hard as her, gave her the lead of their first show: Cinderella. It was brilliant. Her discipline was patent in every move, her dancing as polished as the surface of a mirror, a little stiff even, but that was her. And Hux knew he had made the right choice when he chose her as his first crew member.

*

When Phasma arrived, he struggled to pay her a decent salary, but still he did, and he never let her know how many nights he had gone to bed hungry for that. No one needed to know of his personal struggles. It was no one's bussiness. Nothing to be embarrassed of either, he knew, but keeping up the farce of his perfect life made him less vulnerable in the eyes of any outisder. Still, it paid off, because she made his work load so much lighter, and so, the Starkiller opened its doors much before than he thought could be possible. 

A year after, they still struggled to overcome some obstacles, but overall the situation had improved so much he could afford to pay his dancers a decent wage and keep the theater pristine, including the old storage room upstairs he used as his living space. It was cozy and he had gotten used to it by then, even if he could pay a cheap rent now. His bed, his books, his clothes, everything fit perfectly in one room. No luxuries needed.

-Penny for your thoughts.  
-Ah, nothing of interest. I was just reminiscing our dear Starkiller's first days.  
-It's not usual that you get nostalgic, Hux.  
Phasma smiled at him. All the hardships they had gone through felt like a thousand years ago, sitting now in a bar, enjoying a drink together. Well, he was having a glass of wine. She was having her usual soda. She hadn't tasted alcohol for a long time, and wasn't planning on doing it anytime soon.  
-I'm allowed to relax once in a while, am I not? Tomorrow I'll be the same as everyday, but tonight I'd like to take a look at how far we've come - he smiled back at her with ease, lifting his drink at her before finishing the last of the wine. 

He looked for his wallet and paid both of their drinks, before leaving the bar and walking home. It was a long walk, but he enjoyed it so much he slowed his usual brisk pace to admire the city lights and small wonders. They always went to the same spot, not far from Phasma's, a little place with no visible name where he felt like he could let his guard down, the only known person in sight his tall friend. The path from hers to his always gave him some room to think over the day, and today it was no different, so, of course, his thoughts drifted to the man that stood inside his office a couple hours ago. Kylo Ren. Son of Leia Organa. Both big names in the industry. He felt powerful knowing the younger one was now his subordinate, knowing he could treat him any way he wanted to without consequences. Hux was a fair man, and he would give him the chance to prove that he was worth the investment, just like he had done with every member of his crew, but still, the chance to make him suffer just a little bit proved to be tempting. If it weren't for his self awareness, he would have been smiling. 

At that point of the day, of every day really, his face spelt "tired" through every pore. It wasn't easy on him. Running a theatre and a company of dancers wasn't easy on anybody, and he knew it well before he settled it as his goal, but that was the path he chose and he hadn't regretted it once since he chose it.

Well, maybe that was an overstatement.

Some nights, Hux would sit at his desk and allow himself to have a drink and call it a night, leaving the paperwork for the next day. Some nights, he dreamt with a different life, one where he had friends that would visit him, that would have shared memories with him, that would help him whenever he needed it. Some nights, he dreamt with a tender, warm body laying in bed, waiting for him, easing him into sleep. Some nights, he dreamt with a happy, easy life.

But those nights were rare, and he never dwelled too much on those thoughts. His hard work had gotten him to the place he dreamed of getting to his whole life, and whatever sacrifice he had done, it had been worth it. Since his father had turned his back on him, it had been Armitage and no one else. Just him. Saving every penny he earned as a dancer and a cashier, both full time jobs, untill he had enough to buy the old Emperor and restore it to fit his vision of the new era of ballet. Sure, that left him with literally no money to spare on rent or decent food, but he had a roof inside the theater, and nothing to prove to anyone but himself. No debts. No favors to return. Nothing. So he kept working his jobs and restoring the theater, bit by bit.

So, no. Most nights he didn't allow himself to regret any of it. He couldn't afford to. Dreaming, besides being a wate of time, was virtually useless, and the only downside to these walks he liked so much was that idle time his mind had to wander through these ideas. Maybe he should look deeper into it. Why he liked them so much, those breaks from the strict schedule he set up so everything could run smoothly. But it wasn't the right time. The Starkiller was still a baby, and wasting time on something as trivial as dreams and desires that were of no use to the improvement of the theater was not a real option at this point.

His walk was getting to an end, and just as he passed the only bar still open in the zone, the door opened for a brief second, the light coming from the inside blocked by a big figure. Of course. Just his luck.

-Arm...? Er... Mr. Hux? - the slurred speech betrayed Kylo as he stumbled against the ginger.  
-Just Hux.  
-Ah, eh... W-What are you doing here?  
Hux didn't miss the heat on the tall one's cheeks.  
-In case you don't remember, our workplace is literally crossing the street.  
-Uh, of course, of course... do you... do you smoke?  
The cigarette he offered felt like a peace offering, a stop to the unspoken hostilities between them.  
-Not usually.  
-Well, will you today?  
For once, Kylo's eyes were clear of any cockiness or vanity as he looked at Hux, and he looked back, for a second wondering what could happen, but instead he found himself saying:  
-No. I'm going home now. Be punctual tomorrow, I wouldn't want you to be late for your first day. And he walked away, stopping himself from thinking about what could have happened had he stayed in that alley, yet another useless thought, another "what if". 

And Kylo stumbled back inside, angry at himself for letting his guard down in front of the man that had kicked his ego in the balls earlier that day, right after yelling in the general direction Hux had taken:

-Fine, not like I wanted to share my fucking smokes with you anyways!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyyyyyyyyy sooooooo i know ive been gone for a while but i still want to finish this soooooooo if youre still around thanks a lot!!! if you find any typo or have any suggestions feel free to throw them at me on my twitter (@yookanda) or here in the comments
> 
> id say im going to fix the drawing but its unlikely anyways!!! i hope you enjoy this!


	4. quatre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo could swear Hux could hear his racing pulse as he approached his office, half because he was still mad as shit, half because sweaty ginger boss was a kink he discovered that day during practice.

For a first day at anything, it was not as horrible as Hux expected it to be. Turns out, the chainsmoking asshole's reputation was well deserved. It irked to say it out loud, so he didn't.

-Okay ladies and gentlemen, I think we can call it a day. Finn, Kylo, come to my office before you leave, please. 

Kylo could feel his mood improve exponentially the longer he danced under the warmth of the lights hitting his skin, and by the end of the practice, sweaty and achy, he was even getting nods and smiles from some of the dancers that looked at him like a wet dog when he first arrived. 

-Hey, Nose. Over here.

Obviously, Phasma wasn't one of them. 

Kylo inhaled a deep breath. He kept on shoving his sweaty clothes in his bag, itching to pick a fight, but knowing the backstage on his new job wasn't the best place to do so. 

-I've got a name and I'm pretty fucking sure you know it well, - he turned to look at Phasma, putting emphasis on his last words - She Hulk. 

If looks could kill, Kylo would be six feet under by then. 

-I don't have time for your bullshit. Quit overdoing it. In case you don't remember, you're a background dancer, and I'm a lead. Do us all a favor and learn your place, this is a group and you have a role within it; if you get carried away it shits on everyone else's efforts. 

Her sharp tone got the job done, and she could tell Kylo was getting angry. However, the last time he got violent was still pretty fresh on his mind and face, which was a very good reminder of why it wasn't wise of him to do so. 

-Look, it's not my fault you can't for the life of you hold the attention of a crowd for more than two seconds, maybe you're the one who needs to learn your place and fill the boots you've been placed into with apparently no regard of your real talent, which is, obviously, lacking - he passed her side, kind of hoping she'd start the fight so he had an excuse to continue it, but all she did was put a hand on his shoulder and look at him in the eyes, with a warning written all over her face. 

-Careful, Ren. We both know who has more to loose here. Don't piss me off. 

*

Kylo could swear Hux could hear his racing pulse as he approached his office, half because he was still mad as shit, half because sweaty ginger boss was a kink he discovered that day during practice; he put his best "I'm calm and leveled and not at all about to fist fight someone" face and waited by the doorway until Finn came out.

-I need you to focus, Finn. You looked like a lost child today and we can't afford to not be perfect this trimester. Remember, we are still looking for sponsors and sloppy ballet is not what they are after.

Finn didn't answer. He knew he wasn't doing his best, but his personal circumstances were not ideal either. He'd been ill for a couple days, a short vacation at the hospital after a poorly cooked chicken meal, and just the day he came back, so did the new addition to the crew. Having Ren onstage with him wasn't what he needed right now, it was just a perpetual distraction and worry source, but how could he explain that to his boss? 

-Are you listening to me?

-Yes, Hux. I'm sorry, I just... need to sort some things out.

-Better be quick about it. Kylo, come in.

As Kylo and Finn crossed paths on the doorway, the shorter one felt his balls retract all the way up to his throat. That scar sure added to the disturbance and uneasiness he felt around Ren, so he just looked to the floor and walked on, holding his breath until he was out of the backstage. Kylo didn't even notice, because as soon as he entered, his eyes became busy scanning his sweaty ginger boss, that was still stretching his legs after the practice.

-How did you like your first day on the Starkiller?

-I, uh... It was good. It was good - focus, dammit -. It felt good to be back. I'm really sore because, and I'm not sure you're aware of this, you go hard as fuck on your dancers. Not that it's a bad thing. I like hard.

-Good. I was about to tell you something else but I have the feeling Phasma already did - he threw a stare at the freckled hunk that was now standing awkwardly in front of him, shifting his weight between his feet. He knew better thsn to interrupt Hux before he was done by then -. I do not like useless violence or ego fighting in my theater, so I suggest you sort that out. I know she probably started it - he said, just as Kylo opened his mouth to protest -, but it is up to you how you react to provocation. Have a good night.

Kylo's lips were a mere slim, tense line across his face as he stormed out of the room and to the front of the theater without a word. The rest of the staff were long gone, and he wondered if they got together after practice to have a drink and talk about whatever it was that normal people talked about. He wondered how it'd feel to be part of that group. He also wondered about Armitage Hux and if he ever talked about something besides business or ballet. Highly unlikely. Not really thinking about it, his steps led him to the Rogue, which was bursting with activity. He didn't even bother looking for his new colleagues, what for? They probably didn't want him to sit with them anyways. No one did those days. His lack of interest in the patrons was probably the reason he missed Finn sneaking out the bar behind his back, sweating bullets, holding a certain person's hand and cursing under his breath. Also, the paparazzi waiting for him to arrive to take his picture to make him look depressing for next day's entertainment section of several newspapers. He probably cared about the first ones. He didn't give a shit about the others.

-How you doin' Mr. Ren?

Cassian's casual greeting pulled him out of his miserable bubble, it even made him chuckle a little bit.

-As good as I can given the circumstances. I'm surprised you have time to fuck around, you've a full house - he looked around for the first time since he arrived and saw some familiar faces that were promptly ignored -. How's it going?

-I'm good. Jyn's helping tonight.

-Who?

Cassian pointed his chin to the girl working her way around the tables taking some orders and handing out glasses full of brightly colored cocktails.

-She's cute.

-She's a fast learner, too. I've only called her in a couple of days, but she works like she's been here since I opened the goddamn bar. Best waitress I've had in a while. 

-Sounds like you like her.

They shared a look and turned to face her at the same time.

-Speaking of liking, Poe's here - he pointed his chin again (a bartender's hands are always busy) but frowned when he looked at the table he was supposed to be at -. Huh. Must've left. Sorry.

Kylo stopped listening after "Poe". The table in question was now occupied by people he didn't recognize, but he did see Jyn cleaning two cups of coffee before taking their order. He turned to face Cassian again, realizing he hadn't stopped talking.

-... think he was with someone? I'm not sure.

-He could be eating shit from a plate, for all I care.

-Don't give me that bullshit. As soon as you heard his name your neck literally twisted 180 degrees on its own.

-So?

-So, you have to face him. Not look for him in crowds, no pretend to ignore him, no hovering around the spots he goes to. Call him and apologize. You owe him that much. Jyn! - he shouted at the other end of the bar - There's someone here that needs his order taken!

-Stop sitting on your ass and take it then, I'm kinda busy here!

Cassian scoffed.

-And I'm supposed to be the boss... - he looked at Kylo with a grin before doing exactly what his subordinate told him to.

Kylo finished his scotch, put some bills down with a generous tip for Jyn, and picked up his bag faster than he usually did. He told himself he just wanted to get home early, but, deep down, he knew he was going to do exactly the opposite of what Cassian said he should. He rushed out of the bar and looked around for the messy haired technician, knowing that, if found, it would only lead to bad stuff happening. 

Of course, he wasn't aware that Poe left the second he sat his ass down on the stool right in front of the table he was sharing with Finn. Neither did he knew that when he left he was holding Finn's hand. Or that, in that moment, they were taking a cab to Poe's, as they had done so many times before. But how could he know? He never spent enough time at the other's house to notice the little things that would give the cheating away. Sometimes, Poe had wished to get caught, if only to know how Kylo would react, if only to know if he really loved him.

Luckily for both of them, Kylo never did.

*

Days and weeks went by, and Kylo found himself getting used to his new routine, unaware of Finn's eyes memorizing his path home, that almost always made a stop at the Rogue, mostly because he and Poe adjusted their own routine a little bit to avoid what they called A Situation. Kylo let his work swallow him, not having seen Poe for a couple of weeks now, and obviously Hux noticed, before telling him several times to take it easy ("It's one thing to go hard, and a really different one to neglect your health."). Seeing how his advice wouldn't be heard, he took matters into his own hands and forced Kylo to take some days off.

Rey was thrilled, hearing all about her cousin's affairs: the sexy but ice cold boss, and the blonde She Hulk, and also that one dancer that always seemed to loose his pace when Kylo looked at him...

-It's weird. I mean, it's happened for a while now, but he won't talk to me, or anything. It's like my presence is enough to unsettle him.

-It's actually very easy to find you unsettling, you know. Scar and all. 

Rose's voice came from the kitchen, and Rey let out a loud cackle that was met with Kylo's grimace.

-I wouldn't be surprised if he found you scary.

-Why would Finn find me scary? I'm eerily good looking, but otherwise... - a pillow hitting his face stopped his monologue, along with Rey's laugh, and he couldn't help but laugh too. Rey's house always filled him with warmth and laughter. 

*

The night before his small vacation was over, he went to the theater to pick his backup practice clothes and wash them (a long overdue chore) before returning them to the shared dressing room, but he stopped when he walked past the right stage entrance and saw Hux dancing to something that sounded like delicately played Debussy. It was late enough that he initially thought the theater would be closed; no one else was around, and still, he was there. Vulnerable. Soft. For some reason Kylo's heart felt heavy and warm, as if it were under summer rain, and his eyes itched as tears tried to make their way out. There was something about the way Hux moved, so delicate, so self contained, that filled Kylo with sadness. Maybe it was how desperate the movement was under all the technique. Maybe it was that he seemed to be putting his heart and sould into the dance for the first time in all the time Kylo had practiced with him. Whatever it was, it was beautiful and heartbreaking. For once, the pit inside was full of something he couldn't describe even if he tried, it felt... weird. How someone so cold could be so gentle and passionate at the same time? 

His feet took him to the ginger, and he almost felt relief when his hand touched the other's waist carefully, reaching for his body's warmth with his fingertips. Hux's body changed abruptly, and all that were curves and warmth before was now tense, rigid angles.

-What on Earth...

-Keep going. Please.

Hux was looking at Kylo over his shoulder with his brow furrowed, a confused expression on his face.

-What are you doing here? Why... 

-Just keep going. Please. Please.

Kylo still had his hand on the other's waist, feeling the tender skin under the tee, and felt the moment Hux chose to stop questioning him and dance again, letting him join in, even if just for the brief moments left of the music before the tape was over.

*

Kylo's clothes remained unwashed for, at least, another two weeks, which was almost the same amount of time it took for Hux to stop blushing around him. More or less around the same date he saw Finn kissing Poe for the first time outside the Starkiller.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love my troubled son
> 
> lmk if you find any typos!!! also ur feedback makes me happy so maybe leave a comment or something thx bye


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